Jack's destruction
by kala-kimipeli
Summary: Sophie has done something terrible. Her love for Jack has created an unstoppable force set out to get revenge for his downfall. And Jack is his target. Sophie's choice is between life and death, but which life will she choose? Rated M for some language and later chapters
1. Prologue

**So. I've been out of the fanfiction world for quite a while. I've recently decided to get a grip on my imagination since I'm stuck in the middle of a book I'm writing. **

**For the followers and reviewers of my previous stories, thank you so much! But I think you all know I'm not continuing any of them unless new chapters are SERIOUSLY wanted. Otherwise nooooooo. **

**I kinda realized that I don't like any of those stories anymore. I read them recently and was like, ew, my writing sucks. So here's another story in a totally different setting with totally different characters. I can only hope my writing has improved! **

**This is a Rise of the Guardians story. Rated M for later chapters. I don't own any characters! **

…**.**

Jacks fingertips are just brushing mine, the effort showing red in his face as he's trying to reach me. Black chains wrapped around our bodies, keeping us at a distance so unbearable my body is shaking. Jack tries to tell me that it will all be ok, that we'll be ok. But the panic he tries to hide in his eyes shows me he doesn't believe his own words.

Buildings around us have fallen, large metal beams are sticking up out of the ground while dust flies around, filling our mouths and noses. I think I can hear the cries of people and it sinks into my stomach, making me nauseous. Who knows how far the destruction has gone, I can barely concentrate on what's in front of me.

I did this. This is all my fault.

I can't help my erratic breathing, fear running through my veins. Try as I might I can't reach any further for Jacks hand, all I want is for his skin to be touching mine, to make the fear and the pain go away.

Tears make trails down my cheeks. Seeing Jack so helpless hurts my heart. His hair is no longer the beautiful silvery white; his eyes are turned to a golden brown. How could I have done this to him? How could I have been so selfish? Why had Jack ever trusted me?

Looking back now, I'm not sure how it all started, how my feelings for Jack ignited into something more than friendship. Was it how his visits became more frequent as I grew up? Was it how he made snow appear in my bedroom, coating everything in a soft sparkle? Maybe it was the times that he spent making 'snow days' so that I could spend a few more days with him instead of being in school? Was it how he began to look at me?

His bright blue eyes, so captivating, so easy to be lost in. I couldn't understand why he would look at me with this alluring wonder. Puberty had not been kind to me, my hips grew outwards almost bulbously, and pimples had a tendency to attack my face relentlessly in which no amount of makeup could hide. Thank goodness one does not stop maturing there. Awkward is the understated word I would use to describe my 13 year old self.

And yet, it never seemed to bother Jack. He would say to me, "You know how every snowflake is different? How they're all pretty in their own way?" I would roll my eyes at him, making him chuckle, the sound of wind chimes to my ears. "You're just one of those snowflakes, Sophie."

It's surprising that my face hasn't become permanently red due to how often he makes me blush with his sweet words and snowflakes.

The first time he touched me is a moment I'll never forget. His hand brushed my face, smooth, cold knuckles running down my cheek. I visibly shivered, a cold but electrifying tingle coursing its way down my spine. Even now, 5 years later, he still makes me shiver, makes me forget how to breathe.

With Jamie gone to university, it is to my great joy that Jacks visits don't get interrupted. Jamie kept Jack with him as if they were conjoined twins, showing Jack video games, movies, and even when Jamie was old enough, porn. That is one incident that I wish could be taken from my memory. Jack was, and always will be Jamie's best friend, but Jack continued to come see me even after Jamie was gone.

"I kind of thought you would forget about me and go with Jamie to Orlando," I had said to Jack after 6 months had passed by.

The look on his face was sad, as if I had hurt him by saying that. "Sophie, there is no way I could ever forget about you," he said, taking my hand in his. "You don't…want me to leave…do you?"

Panic had closed my throat. No, no, in no possible way did I want Jack to leave. I shook my head violently at the thought, "No!"

And he has stayed ever since. Always tapping on my window, making frosty pictures appear on the glass. I make silly attempts to draw my own pictures, breathing hot air on the window and using my clumsy fingers to make patterns and stars and happy faces. My skills lie with charcoal and paint on canvases, not slick window glass.

I'd show Jack my drawings of made up people, some of them children holding their parents hands, others scantily clad women in precarious poses. I don't show Jack the ones that I drew of him, of our hands locked together, of his shirtless body, of his lips so achingly close to mine.

My heart breaks now at what I have done to him.

I did this. He is powerless because of me. I have created monster that has set out to kill Jack.

"Take me," I whisper to the shadows around us.

Jacks eyes grow wide, fear blooming at the realization of what I'm saying.

"Take me instead," I say again, louder. The shadows shake as if they're laughing.

"Take me! Kill me instead!"

…

**Second chapter will be up in a day or so! **

**Thanks for reading ;D**


	2. The kiss

**Rereading the prologue I can already see past and present mix ups *facepalm***

**Ooooh well! Hopefully it was enjoyable anyways! It's nice to finally fill my time with creativeness! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters! Story is allllllll mine **

….

**1 year before…**

It's too early. 6am on a Sunday is a most disturbing hour to be awake. I could hit the snooze button on my alarm two more times but in all likely-ness I would fall back to sleep and be grossly late for work. My position with the catering company required me to be extremely punctual, and with an early morning breakfast soirée, my team mates and I had to be at the most esteemed church in Flint, Church of Our Saviour, for 7am.

I am a morning person, but even this is painful. Sluggishly I get out of bed and make my way to the bathroom, only grunting at my mother who says an overly cheerful, "Good morning, sweetheart!"

Our shower is an obscenity that runs only cold water for an approximate 5 minutes before even thinking about running the hot water. Too impatient to wait, I jump in and immediately regret my decision. It's one thing to feel the coolness of Jack Frost's touch; it's a whole other situation when it feels like you've landed naked on an iceberg. At least now I'm awake.

I could've stood back and waited until the water turned warm but my stubbornness had me standing under the shower head recklessly washing my hair and body. I refuse to let the early morning and frozen water ruin my day.

By the time I was out of the shower and dressed in my silly uniform, Mother had toast and yogurt waiting for me on the kitchen table. "Thanks mom," I say, kissing her cheek before sitting down.

I love my mom. She is so kind and sweet. She solves every problem that gets in her way by her intuition and wits. Nothing throws her off. Though, I'm not about to tell her about Jack, a friend whose name floats around fairy tales. I don't think she would know what to think of her 18 year old talking to invisible people. Well…invisible to her.

"Hey, Sophie, I have a couple of tickets to the art show that's going on today," mom tells me, "a co-worker gave them to me but I thought you might enjoy it more. If you want you can have them and take someone with you?" A gleam lights up her eyes, "A boyfriend, perhaps?"

Mother has a funny way of trying to get me to date people. The last boyfriend I had was in grade 6 and that was a disaster. I was constantly made fun of by Jamie about the four eyed, stuttering mess that was Daniel Perttrue. Not to mention when Daniel was over Jack was decidedly not there, making me nervous every time, wondering if he thought he was being replaced.

Laughing at my mom, I answer, "There's no boy that I like at the moment." Mother deflates a little.

Jack doesn't count as a boy. He is what? 300 something? Definitely not a boy. What with his lean muscles that should be a sin to look at and that dangerously playful glint to his eyes.

"But," I say, before mother looks too disappointed, "there is someone that I'll ask to come with me."

Perking up at the news that I do actually have friends, mother smiles, satisfied. She worries about me being up in my room for great amounts of time. But that's the only place where it can just be Jack and me. And my room is the only place I feel comfortable drawing or painting, anywhere else is a distraction. I've been told that in my concentrated state I can get scary. I can think of nothing else but what I'm about to paint.

"Great!" Mother lights right up and turns back to the kitchen counter, pouring over whatever work papers that are in front of her.

I quickly finish breakfast and head out the door, calling out that I'll be home around noon. The warm air outside is not a welcome feeling. When summer comes Jack isn't around as often, he's elsewhere out across the world spreading chill winds and snow. With summer being half over, I can only hope for and early fall, bringing back the frost, and Jack.

With it being so warm, I wasn't expecting a cold breeze across the back of my neck. I stop and let it tingle down my spine before turning my head. Jack's face is right above my shoulder, a grin playing on his lips. Butterflies are eating away at my stomach.

"I didn't expect to see you today," I say with an air of indifference, and continue walking. Jack will follow me, he always does.

"I thought Russia might be thankful for one day without frostbite," Jack says with equal indifference, floating beside me as I walk. "Don't you have something you want to ask me?"

He's clearly asking about the art show, he knows none of my real life friends would want to go. Now that none of us are in school, most of them have taken on drinking with a gusto that I'll never understand. I'm not adverse to fun, but there is always a blank canvas calling my name.

I look at Jack to see his now coy smile. "No, what makes you think that?" I am a shameless flirt when it comes to him. Something in my brain stops me from acting like the 18 year old that I am, and turns me into a 14 year old with a high school crush.

Jack shrugs as he plants his bare feet on the ground to walk with me. "I guess you're going to ask someone else then, maybe you're boyfriend?" He echo's moms words.

I slap his arm lightly, "You were listening?!"

His wind chime laugh sets my heart to a stuttering speed. "You really don't like any boy? Maybe this means you're into women?" He asks, ignoring my shock.

"I swear, Jack Frost, you will get kicked in the shins one of these days," I say exasperated.

He laughs again at my embarrassment, and I can't help but smile. We're nearing the church and I'm not ready to go in yet, I don't want to leave Jack after not seeing him for a few days. His absence leaves a hole whenever he's gone. The violence of my emotions is enough to have me drawing dark portraits and sadness. My dependency on Jack is somewhat obsessive.

"I'm going to go see Jamie today," Jack says, obscuring my hopes of seeing him after work.

"That'll be nice…for Jamie," I plaster an insincere smile on my face, a small prick of jealousy forming in my chest. I almost stomp my foot on the ground childishly as we stop in front of the church.

"But," Jack looks right into my eyes, replacing my jealousy with electricity, "yes, I will gladly go with you to the art show this afternoon."

I smile widely, "Yeah? You want to go?"

"It interests you, so yeah, I want to see the things you like," Jack loses eye contact with me for half a second before looking back up, shy.

A small, breathy laugh emerges from my throat. I have the uncontrollable need to laugh when my emotions are high, whether things are good or bad.

"Well, great. Pick me up at 2 o'clock?" I ask quickly, my ruthless mind thinking 'what if he's joking'?

Jack leans in suddenly, his face barely an inch from my own, his lips so temptingly close to mine I can hardly find the restraint to keep the distance between us. "I'll be there," he says and slowly kisses my cheek.

I'm shocked into immobility. Jack has never set his lips on me before. His lips are expectedly cool, soft, and sweet. A rush of air escapes my mouth and I can only hope Jack didn't hear it. Something akin to bewilderment rushes through me, and I can't stop the yearning I feel, wanting him to kiss me again, to kiss me everywhere. I quickly repaint this moment in my mind, promising myself to put it down on a larger canvas.

I haven't even said goodbye to him by the time the wind picks him up and takes him away.

…

The old brunch party goers would have been a lot more insufferable had it not been for my encounter with Jack. One lady had a curious distaste for me no matter what food or drink I would bring to her. The croissants were too crunchy, to coffee was too strong, and even the butter was not soft enough. But her groaning's were lost on me, I returned every complaint with a smile.

I touched my cheek every chance I had, still feeling Jack's lips there. A few times my co-worker Cynthia 'tsk'd at my air headed-ness. By the end of brunch I had just about pissed off everyone else by being absent minded and clumsy. I owe about $30 dollars for the plates and glasses I had broken.

As I now walked back home I can only see myself as a blubbering mess when Jack comes to get me. What should I wear? Should I redo my makeup? I need to shower again, start from scratch. But it's only half past 11. There is way too much time in between now and 2 o'clock. Now is as good a time as any to repaint Jack's kiss.

Needless to say I've never walked home faster. Practically running through the front door, I holler "I'm home!"

With just as much volume, mother yells back, "Hi honey! How was your morning?!"

"Fantastic!" I would normally use that word for sarcasm, but this day did not call for it. "I'll be in my room painting!" I could hear my mother chuckle as I ran passed her open bedroom door.

I quickly changed into my painting clothes; a forever colourfully stained white tank top and jeans with holes in them. Tying up my hair, I bring up the image in my head, choosing between lighting and any of the possible angles. I set up the largest canvas I have on my sheet covered wall, staring at first of the brilliant whiteness of it, anticipating the feeling of the first brush stroke. There is nothing more satisfying than that.

I start with a corner of my face first, painting in black and grey. I have to look in my mirror a few times to get my lips right; they will never be perfect enough. I decide that with only half of my face showing and a few strands of hair falling down that the image of me is good enough. I find that there is no need to waste time on the images of myself, especially when there is something, or someone, so much better to recreate. Jack is so much more beautiful, complicated and exciting. My fingers practically dance at the thought.

I start with his neck, making it twist slightly to look like his back is facing outwards, just like how it was. I can't help but think of what it would be like to touch his neck, to kiss it. His jaw line is so perfect, so straight and strong. That is one part of him that I have mastered when it comes to art.

His hair, so wild and sexy, I don't know how I've denied myself of running my hands through the short locks. His nose, so small and sweet, there's no other nose like it. And his lips. Tingles race through me as I slowly paint his lips. I smile widely, the euphoric feeling of love and lust washing over me. I can pretend all I like in front of Jack that my feelings for him aren't as great as they seem. But on my own, looking at him from my point of view, everything comes to the surface.

I'm just finishing the last little touches when I hear paper rustling behind me. If anything I hope its mother, waiting for me to finish while she looks over her own work papers. I stop mid brush stroke and inhale. Please, please, please let it be mother. She would just think that my new work is something that I've dreamed up, especially having told her this very morning about my lack of interest in boys.

"Wow," a low, distinctly male voice reaches my ears.

Dear fucking lord. I'm on the verge of a heart attack.

Slowly turning, I see the voice has a face. Jack is sitting on my bed, engrossed in my art book. The very book I keep under my bed so as to not attract any attention. The book I keep of my drawings of Jack himself.

My heart stops.

He is going to think I'm crazy, that I've formed an unhealthy preoccupation with him. Which, if I'm being honest with myself, that's probably true.

Jack finally looks up at me and I know the look of shock and fear has not left my face. My embarrassment is beyond belief.

"Sophie…" he starts, looking back down at the book, "these are…" he doesn't finish.

"I-I know, they're kind of….oh my god stop looking!" Horror takes over me as I nearly sprint towards him and snatch the book out of his hands. "I'm sorry!"

Confusion flits over Jacks face for a second before an amused smile replaces it. "Look at you, all embarrassed. Someone will think that you're trying to hide those." He nods at my book.

"I _was_ trying to hide them, especially from snoops like you!" I think I'm actually angry with him. Having being caught in the act as well with giant evidence sitting on the opposite wall.

Quickly I try to throw a sheet over top, as if Jack hasn't already seen it, but a hand stops mine. The pressure forcing my hand back down to uncover the painting again. The paint hadn't even had a chance to dry yet so some of the paint was smudged in certain spots, thankful not over the part where Jack's lips and on my cheek.

"Hey," he says warmly, "I was going to say, that these, " he points to my book and the wall canvas, "are amazing."

I can't think of anything to say, I'm pretty sure my mouth drops open like an idiot.

Jack takes the book from me and turns through the pages, searching for one in particular. When he stops my face turns full on purple. The page we're looking at has a near fully exposed me with a just as much exposed Jack. His arms are wrapped around me, my head thrown back as he kisses my collar bone.

I might die here and now.

"This one, in particular is pleasing to the eye," Jack chuckles, "but, there's another one that I like more." He starts flipping through the pages until he comes to one that is not near as sexual as the last.

I remember this one distinctly because I dreamt of it. Jack is floating in the air directly above my bed where I lay. My arms and torso (clothed thankfully) are sticking out from underneath the covers. The look on Jacks face is one of thought as he watches me sleep, his head quirked to the side, my arms thrown ungracefully across my chest and above my head.

I don't know what it was that made me think of drawing this picture, I just had this feeling that maybe it wasn't just a dream.

"I like this one," Jack finally says.

I realize he's looking at me. Do I dare look him in the eye? Looking through this art book he now knows all my deep, dark secrets.

"And this," he points to my recent painting, "I think it needs a little adjustment."

"Huh?" My artist brain immediately reacts to the criticism. I start to think that everything is wrong with it, that maybe I got my eyes wrong. Or maybe it's the angle?

I look at Jack, and he has this look in his eyes, the like of which I've never seen before. I think about the very sexual picture and my insides cave in.

"It should be more like this."

Before I know it Jack's lips are on my own, his lips pressed unheedingly against mine. His cool breath escapes for a second and I breathe it in, letting it chill my throat. My eyes close automatically, a whole new picture creating itself in my head.

This…this is….

Beautiful.

It is so much more than his kiss on my cheek. It is worlds away.

My book drops to the ground and it makes me jump, splitting us apart. I could curse my butter fingers.

Laughter bubbles up my throat and I can't hold it in. I try to say something through the laughter but it comes out more as gasps and indecipherable words. I'm lost in my own joy, backing away from him as if I have a contagious disease.

Jack just stands there, his sweet face looking on as I try to get my laughing fit under control. Why does he have to be so perfect, so calm? I feel like a child that doesn't know how to express my own feelings.

It takes me a few moments to get myself to calm down, but even now little giggles surface here and there.

"Sophie," Jack says.

"Um," giggle, "yeah?"

His smile is so wide. He steps closer to me and takes my right hand. Jack whispers, "I want to make more memories for you to draw from." He lifts my hand and kisses it, his eyes on me the entire time.

I can't speak. I can't move. What I thought were my wildest dreams have come true. After years of wanting and imagining, the pictures have come to life. He isn't disgusted by my display of wanting and dreaming.

"We're going to be late for the art show."

…..

**Gah. I lied. I got really excited about this story and had to continue. **

**Thanks for reading! **


	3. The wanting

**People. I don't own any characters. **

…..

I have to blink a few times and shake my head to understand what he is saying.

Right, the art show. Looking at the clock, it's already quarter to 2.

"I, uh, guess I should get changed," I realize. The whole time that I was to be spending prepping myself for the occasion was instead spent delving into art.

In a daze, I start searching for something more appropriate to wear, though I end up picking the first pair of pants and shirt out of my dresser that my hands land on. I think I told Jack that I would be right back and he may have answered but I can't be sure.

I spend minimal time in the bathroom getting changed and letting my hair down. I'm not even sure that my outfit is nice enough and I can't be bothered with putting on any makeup. My giddy-ness can't be stamped down.

When I re-enter my room, Jack isn't where he was before. Instead, he's sitting on my bed, pencil in hand, drawing something out in my book. He is so engrossed with it that I am almost standing beside him before he realizes and slams the book closed.

"I'm not finished," he says, nervousness catching in his eyes.

"Fine, I won't look until you're done," I cross my arms and wait patiently, wanting so badly to see what it is that he has drawn.

"You promise?" Jack asks, holding out his pinky finger.

Rolling my eyes at the childish expression I link my pinky with his. He knows that I always keep my promises, no matter how tempting it would be to peek. I like being surprised.

Jack smiles his heart warming smile, "Let's go."

He disappears through the window before I can even think. Quickly, I grab my purse and tickets and head out of my room.

Mother is standing at the bottom of the stairs holding the phone to her ear. When she sees me she excuses herself and holds her other hand over the receiving end of the phone.

"You're going to the show?" She asks.

"Yep!" I answer with more joy than the both of us were expecting.

Mother smiles and kisses my forehead, "Have fun sweetheart! And oh! Wait a sec!" She goes to her desk and opens the drawer, looking for something.

All I can think about is how Jack is waiting for me outside. I wish mom would hurry!

She comes back with a few bills in her hand, "If you see something you like then you can buy it, on me!"

Mother is so sweet. She supports my love of art like no other parent and I am more than thankful to her. I decide immediately that whatever it is that I find at the show, I will buy it for her.

"Thanks mom," I say and give her a tight hug.

…

The second I had walked out of my house Jack took my hand in his. His icy palm clutching mine, and he hasn't let go since. This is another first. My entire day has been made of all knew things and I'm having a hard time keeping the blissful feeling down.

Despite the fact that Jack is accompanying me to the art show, I am bouncing on the balls of my feet. Beautiful art works hang on strings in tents and captivating sculptures stand on the grass here and there. Some paintings I found were atrocious; I couldn't understand the meaning of them or the theme. Though, I do have the tendency to be extremely skeptical.

"I don't get it," Jack voiced my thoughts on one particular sketch.

The artist had made an ear, exploding swirls of colour and jet black words, all of which were nonsensical. A skull was even drawn in amongst the madness of this piece.

I tilt my head back and forth to try to gain perspective on it, but coming up short. Maybe it was because Jacks hand kept squeezing mine every now and then. I don't know if he's doing it on purpose or if it's a subconscious thing, but it feels like he's making sure that I won't forget about him.

"I agree," I say, shaking my head, "I don't get it either. What it the point of creating something if it makes no sense?"

I started walking again, sick of looking at it, and pulling Jack along as well. Over thought pieces of work bored me. I need to see thoughtless, careless sceneries, of images that the artist let fly onto their canvas.

"Hey," Jack says, stopping me.

"Hmm?" I'm distracted by a strange sculpture. I bend over to the side to get a better look, letting Jack hold my weight with his hand. I bet I look pretty silly but there's a piece of artwork that needs inspecting.

"I like it when you do that." Jack pulls me up and lets my chest fall against his. My breath catches for a moment. His body is so firm and it fits perfectly with mine. "I like the look on your face when you look at other peoples stuff."

My brain jumbles Jacks word into "I like your face", and butterfly giggles surface.

"Are you hungry?" He asks me, wrapping his arm around my waist. I almost forget to answer. Jack has brought us so close together that I can feel his breath on my skin.

But my stomach growls so audibly neither of us can ignore it. I haven't eaten since breakfast and now that Jack has mentioned food I can smell the hotdogs and funnel cake. And if there's one thing I can't resist, its food cooked in trucks for $3 each.

"Famished," I smile, and Jack drags me to the first food truck we see.

In the back of my mind, I'm wondering if people are noticing a girl being mystically pulled by an unseen force, if they think how odd it is for me to be appearing to talk to nobody. I used to be conscious of it, hoping my friends wouldn't think I'm crazy. Now it doesn't matter as much, because Jack is real. I can touch him and know in confidence that he is actually here.

We laugh a little at how he can't pay for my burger or drink. Jack tells me that we could never have a proper date because of what he is. And while the thought saddens me, the word 'date' rings loud in my ears.

Walking around after my stomach is pleasantly full, we come across a curious tent. It's dark inside and the owner of the tent is beckoning people in. He looks odd, a cloak like coat draping his shoulders though it's much too warm for a coat. His black hair is slicked back to show his pointy features and pale skin. His face seems so bright in the setting sun. Jack's hand tightens around mine, and when I look up at him, his eyebrows are furrowed and quizzical.

"What's the matter?" I tug his hand lightly, drawing his attention.

Jack relaxes a bit as he looks at me, "Oh… it's nothing."

I don't believe him, but for now I'll let it slide. "I want to go in there, it looks kinda cool!" I start walking into the tent, feeling Jack resist for only a moment until he follows closely behind me.

Inside, it is still dark, but as our eyes adjusted a black light lit up the small space. At first the paintings were strange, but with closer examination I saw the detail in every one of them. It was horrifying, dead bodies with their entrails spilling out and dogs eating at the remains. Skeletal faces looked up at me, as if they blamed me for their pain, judging me. Children covered in blood cried over unrecognizable beings.

My stomach roils and clenches and I wish I hadn't eaten anything. Yet I can't look away from the chaos. I can't seem to control my breathing and I feel the beginnings of tears prick my eyes.

What deranged mind conjured these abominable images?

"Sophie, let's go," Jack says seriously, yanking me back from a spiral I was beginning to go down. He leads me back out of the tent but we're stopped by the owner.

"I see you're not one for my particular skill," the man touches my shoulder, "do not worry, I'm sure you have more….pretty things to look at."

I rolled my shoulder to get his hand off, "Um, no. Thanks."

He can't see Jack, can't see the rage evident on his face. It must feel awful to be standing there but unable to do anything.

I quickly turn away, hoping the creepy man has nothing more to say to me and walk as fast as I can. I look back once to, I don't know what; make sure he wasn't following us? He isn't, but he is looking at me still, a smile the likes of which I've never seen, taking over his face.

"That guy is sick," Jack huffs in disgust, bringing my attention back to him. "I understand death as an art form but that is just disturbing." He mock shivers.

"Yeah.." I nod, real shivers going up and down my spine.

_Just don't think about it. _

"Hey!" I perk up, "I need to get something for my mom still!"

Jack, who I think is thankful for the distraction as well, looks like he's thinking and straightens suddenly.

"I know exactly what to get her, come on." I follow Jack to a tent we quickly perused about a half hour ago, filled with trinkets and glass windows. Jack is smart; this tent holds exactly the kind of things mother likes. But Jack has his eye on something in particular. "Good, it's still here," he points at a little figurine, "I don't know if she'll really like it but I think it's perfect."

He's right, the little figurine _is_ perfect. A young woman's smiling face looks up to the sky, her eyes closed, while her arms, which gradually turn into wings, are stretched back behind her. She wears nothing, she only stands on a small red rock that was probably picked up on a beach somewhere. She looks happy.

"It's beautiful," I breathe. "Ok, done, I'm getting it." Jack laughs at my haste to pay for mother's gift. "Let's go!" I can't wait to give this to mother, she will love it.

"Seems like a do have good taste after all," Jack says smugly as we walk out of the park and onto the darkening streets.

"When it comes to some things, yes you do," I look up at him, poking him in the ribs with my elbow.

"Only some things?" He asks, which I laugh at.

"Well, I just happen to think that your taste in women is favourable," my sly eyes unconsciously move to Jacks lips.

A smirk springs to Jack's face when he looks back down at me. "Does this mean that we're dating?" He asks, hopeful, draping his arm around my shoulders as we walk.

I turn my head into his chest and inhale, he smells like a fresh snow fall. "Yeah, I think I can stand to be around you like this a bit more."

"Ha!" Jack laughs.

He stops and I feel the wind pick up around us. My heart and my excitement escalate. "Ready?"

I don't even know why Jack asks me this; my answer will always be yes. Flying with Jack is the most unbelievable experience. I nearly jump into his arms as the wind swirls quickly around us. Jack takes my hands and puts them around his neck. I can't help it, I graze my hands through the back of his hair; it's just as soft as I thought it would be.

With Jack's arms firmly around me, we launch into the air, our eyes locked on each other. We fly so high into the air that if I let go of Jack I could almost touch the clouds. It would be hard to breathe if my breath wasn't already taken away.

Jack positions us so that we are parallel to the ground. He holds me beneath him which is perfectly fine with me. I let my head fall back to see the city in a whole new way. The lights and buildings all turned upside down make a beautiful abstraction. With the moon rising, the scenery is a masterpiece seen from only in the sky.

This feeling….I can't find the proper words to describe it. 'Amazing' just doesn't cut it.

Jack is so fast, so graceful. We pass my house in favour of making one last circle around two blocks. I gain the courage to let go of Jack, letting my arms flail down behind me, as if I have grown wings of my own.

Jack's nose brushes my neck and sparks ignite my skin. I can see us as if I were someone else watching our bodies soar into the night. I would never want to be any other person because no one else has felt this and will never feel it. This is mine. Jack is mine.

I see my house coming up again and I reach back around to hold Jack. He sinks down slowly, prolonging our flight.

"Sophie..." Jack whispers huskily.

At the sound of my name I bring my lips up to his as my feet dangle above the ground. This kiss is not as shy as the first one was. This kiss is sweet but wanting, soft yet urging. This kiss has me reeling. What I feel for Jack comes rushing out with this kiss. Feeling bold, I lick his lower lip and take it into my mouth. Jack's surprised gasp is music to my ears.

When my feet finally touch ground I can't seem to break away from him. My hands move to hold his face as if the action will keep him here forever. It takes his hands touching mine for me to pull away slowly.

Without a word, only a blissful peace showing on his face, Jack floats away.

….

**This is the first fic that I am writing with sexual content in it. I'm surprised at how easy but hard it is. Aaghh. Frustration. **

**Thanks for reading! ;D**


	4. The start

**I'm soooo sorry about the late update. My internet stopped working! But here's the next chapter. I'm not all that happy with this one and I cut it short just to update. This is more filler than anything. **

**But thank you RoseShaow1917 for bugging me to get it done!**

…**..**

The urge to peek in my book that Jack had started his drawing in is unbelievably strong. Especially because I've been up all night, drunk with joy. I had to force myself to open a new blank book so I could relive the days wondrous events. I decided that I will give mother her gift tomorrow, just in case Jack is around to see her reaction.

I want to give something to him. He has given me flight and memories that I will never forget. I begin to wonder if Jack can be tattooed like North, but quickly withdraw that notion. Nothing screams crazed, obsessed girlfriend better than suggesting getting tattoos together after only 10 hours of being together. Besides, his skin is perfect in every possible way.

Jack has told me about the Man in the Moon. How the large ball in the sky had chosen him, how he speaks to all the guardians. I often find myself staring out my bedroom window, curious if Manny, as North calls him, will ever speak to me. It's silly but I think everyone at some point likes to think that they have magical powers too.

Sleep sneaks up on me somewhere in between 3 and 5 am. Thank goodness Monday is my day off.

Mother is gone to work by the time I get myself out of bed, but she has made me some eggs for breakfast with a pleasant note saying, "Good morning! I'll be back in time for dinner tonight (yay!) so go through the take out menus and pick what you want! Love you Sophie!"

Looks like we're having Thai tonight. Between the two of us, Thai food is the most agreeable since we both like the same things and don't have to order 5 different dishes.

I scratch my shoulder while I'm heating up the eggs. It feels like I've been bitten by something. I make a mental note to vacuum up any pesky bugs I find in my room today.

After eating breakfast I go back up to my room and set up a canvas on my easel. I sit on my stool and stare at the whiteness.

I stare and stare and stare. I think it's been a good twenty minutes now and I haven't come up with anything. I could repaint any of the drawings I made last night, but I feel like I should be making something new.

I pick up my brush and coat it in a soft orangey-pink colour and I let my hand wander across the canvas as it pleases. I incorporate blues and greens and even some yellow. I don't know what it is that made me think of this, but my face is colourfully painted, tears running down my cheeks but I am smiling a sort of grieved smile.

It makes me sad. Like I've lost something or have made a wrong choice. But I continue on and before I know it, the painting is turning into something a bit…strange. My eyes have turned into a hurt expression with shadows underneath them as if I have not slept in days. My smile has turned more upwards, in more of a laugh.

Seeing what the picture has turned into, I stop and put my paints and brushes away. It's just too depressing.

I have and urgent need to fill my time with something more pleasant. I think of seeking Jack out if he's around and get him to take me to the pond so that he can freeze the water for me. I like skating, there's just something about gliding over smooth ice that makes it gratifying.

But first. I have bugs to exterminate.

I turn on my music, set to the loudest volume possible and get to work. I look in every nook and cranny I can find and suck up even the tiniest of spiders that have taken up shelter in my room. I'll be damned if I live with biting spiders.

I take to wiggling a little bit to the music while vacuuming. The wiggling eventually turns into full blown dancing. I'm hoping around and singing along with the song and it helps me forget my most recent painting.

I'm just starting to work up a sweat when I've finished my job. _Aahh, _I think,_ that's better. _

The music seems almost too loud now, so when I turn it off the silence is deafening. I'm still singing while I put the vacuum away and return to my room. I choke mid lyric though when I see Jack, pencil firmly gripped in his hand and his tongue sticking out in concentration as he continues where he left off with his drawing.

Without looking up, Jack jokingly says to me, "No, please, keep singing. I think you're about two songs away from signing a record label."

Lord. My singing is horrible, like nails on a chalkboard. I know this, and yet I still seem to think it's appropriate for me to sing out loud.

I groan and flop down on my bed next to Jack, suddenly exhausted from lack of sleep and my dance workout. I decide to turn the tables.

Poking Jack on the back of his head, I ask, "So when's that drawing of yours going to be finished, huh?"

Jack catches my hand and turns his face to kiss my knuckles. "Have a little patience. This is a very delicate operation I'm commencing here." He smiles at me and closes the book.

Something boils inside me when Jack turns over and leans over top of me, his legs spread to either side of my hips, his hands next to my head. His playful smirk has me on edge. I've thought about sex with Jack before, what I think it would be like. But those thoughts at the time felt like something in my wildest dreams that ought never to happen.

Jack leans down, like he's about to kiss me, but something stops him. His eyes slide over to my half covered shoulder and he lifts his hand away from my face to pull the rest of my tank strap off.

This isn't quite how I pictured sex going.

"What's this?" Jack asks, nodding to my shoulder.

"Just a bug bite I think," I shrug, a little deflated at the wasted moment.

"I don't know, do bug leave bruises?" Jack sits on me a little and uses his other hand to turn my chin so that I'm looking at my shoulder.

Holy, "That was definitely not there this morning."

Jack moves off me as I sit up to examine the purple-almost black-bruise. It still itched too.

"Maybe I scratched it too hard," I say, shrugging again. This doesn't concern me too much, I'm an easy bruiser. "Hey, by the way," I turn to look at Jack, "will you be around tonight?"

"Hmm?" Jack has this weird, serious look on his face, and he isn't looking at me. I've never seen him like this. He seems strung up all of a sudden. "Uh, sorry, Sophie. I'm going to go see North tonight," he makes a small smile appear on his face though it doesn't reach his eyes. "I won't be back till early morning I think."

"Oh, ok," I'm a little more disappointed than I should be. It's really not that big of a deal if Jack isn't here tonight. I will live.

With a sneaky smile, I stand up and quickly sit in Jacks lap, my arms going around his neck. He barely has time to register what's happening before I kiss his lips fiercely. My hands slide down and up his clothed back, and I feel his hands move their way up my thighs, stopping at the skin exposed between my jeans and shirt.

I'm in a brave mood, so I reach under his sweater and touch his bare back. Jacks skin is just as cool here as his hands are. I love it. I love the feel of him on my palms and I love the welcoming shudder that Jack makes.

Jack has hitched my tank top up a little, his icy hands grabbing at my hips, when he seems to remember something. His lips slow down the fevered movement that had matched mine until he's sweetly leaving little kisses on my cheeks, nose and neck.

Inside I am rolling my eyes at yet another wasted moment.

"I have to go," Jack whispers.

"I don't want you to," I breathily say back.

Jack huffs a small laugh and kisses my collar bone. "The sooner I leave the sooner I'll be back."

"Gah!" I take my hands out from under his sweater in defeat. "Fine, go have your fun with North." I say in a mock upset tone. "Bring me back a cookie while you're at it."

Jack flips us around so that he's once again over top of me, but this time he's floating an inch above me. "I'd bring you back his palace if I could," his lips are brushing mine as he romances me into forgiveness.

I let him kiss me twice before I watch him disappear through the window.

Sighing heavily, I look at the time. Mother will be home in 2 hours. I'm not quite sure what to do with myself until then. I'm still not in the mood for anymore painting, and the house is clean for the most part. Watching tv doesn't really do anything for me, so that's out.

A walk, yeah, I'll go for a walk. I take off my jeans in favour for a pair of shorts; the weather is still stiflingly warm and I don't feel like chaffing in jeans.

I grab my mother's cellphone. I'm in the middle of saving up for my own phone because mother always told me to work for the things I want.

"Aahhh," I breathe in the fresh air now that I'm out of the house. Despite it being warm, the weather is perfect.

I can't decide which way to go, there's only left or right. So I pick up a stick and throw it into the air and wait for it to land on either side of the crack serving as a divider on the sidewalk.

The stick lands just a little to the left of the crack. Left I go then. That's fine by me, the streets to the left take me further away from the city, away from the noise. It bothers me how noisy people can be. Car horns honking, people yelling across streets, wild children who need discipline. I like the quiet, it's soothing and it lets my imagination run free.

I start turning down streets that have less and less traffic than the last. It takes me about 15 minutes until I'm out of town completely and I reach the pond that lay in the forest; I'm a slow walker.

I suppose the subconscious decision to come here had already been made the second the stick landed. I like it here, not a whole lot of people come here anymore though I'm not sure why. The way the water reflects the sun makes the leaves on the trees sparkle like emeralds. The flowers that grow in the summer are varied roses and tulips and, briefly, lilacs. And it all smells so _good._

Picking up a large leaf I kneel beside the pond. Little tadpoles swim around the lily pads and the water skimmers glide quickly over the surface. I start tearing up the leaf and throwing the bits into the water, watching as tiny fish nip at the pieces, thinking that its food.

While I'm sitting by the pond I can't shake the feeling that I'm being watched. I peek out of the corner of my eyes in different directions, but there's no one else here. I could just be imagining things, but the prickle in the back of my neck keeps me on edge. The fact that there's no sound makes this even more eerie.

It's when my eyes graze over a curiously shadowed area that my shoulder suddenly starts burning and itching intensely. I try to scratch it to see if that would relieve the itchiness but my skim screams at the touch. What the hell is this?

Looking back up where the shadow was, I find that it's gone. And just as quickly my shoulder stops burning. This is just so weird. It could've been a coincidence, maybe with the sun starting to go down it's throwing around funny shadows, and my shoulder just happened to hurt at the same time.

_Maybe I should get my shoulder checked out, _I think. I've seen bug bites when they get nasty, some people have had to get their limbs removed and I kind of like my limbs attached.

….

**Thanks for reading! **


	5. The first

**Oh my. Only 5 chapters in and I'm getting lazy with the updates. Sorry dudes! **

**Prepare yourselves for the first sexual chapter ever written by me. It's not fantastic, but I'm kinda pleased with it **** I think it's a little rushed and short but let me know what YOU think! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters or rise of the guardians. Blah blah **

….

"Ooooooo Thai food!" Mother all but squeals when she gets home. She ungracefully throws her bags to the floor and hops up on the island seat beside me and starts filling her plate.

"I'm glad you like my choice," I laugh, forking Pad Thai into my mouth.

We eat happily for a while, discussing our days and going over plans for our trip to Frankenmuth for a shopping trip. I almost forget about the burning in my shoulder while talking to mother, but every now and then I remember it, like I'm still at the pond.

My mood deflates at the thought of Jack not being here. He would help liven things up for me. I imagine him kissing my shoulder better, kissing up my neck and jaw as he touched my stomach, his hands running up my legs and-

"Did you have fun at the art show?" Mother asks me, breaking through my sexual fantasy as mothers do.

I have to cough and clear my throat a little before I answer her, "Yeah, mom, it was great!" which reminds me, "One second, I'll be right back!"

Jumping up from my seat, I dash up to my bedroom and retrieve the figurine wrapped in tissue paper from one of my dresser drawers. I take another moment to look out my window, to see if Jack has returned early from North's. But he isn't there, and I know my disappointment is childish; I knew he wouldn't be here.

Shaking my head and standing a bit taller, I nearly strut back down to the kitchen where my mother is waiting anxiously. "Close your eyes and hold out your hands," I say. It's something mother always said to me and Jamie when she had surprises for us. Mother obliges, shutting her eyes so tight she might get a headache, and holding her hands out so fast I have to laugh at her.

"This is a little something we-I thought you would like," I correct myself quickly. There will be a day when I tell her about Jack, but it's not today.

I place the wrapped up parcel in her hands and she opens her eyes at the same time, saying "Oh Soph, you didn't have to get me anything! That money was meant for you!" I know she appreciates my thoughtfulness, though.

Tearing through the tissue quickly reveals to her the figurine, the wings and the woman's face still as beautiful as I remember. "Oh my," Mother breathes, smiling a sweet smile that touches her whole face, "Sophie, I love it." She stands up and gives me a tight hug, nearly winding me, but I hug her back just as much.

"I'm glad you like it," I say quietly.

"Sweet pea, it's so lovely. I'll have to put this somewhere I can see it all the time!" Mother pulls back and starts investigating the house, looking for the perfect spot. I like making her happy, she deserves it.

I chuckle and clean up the mess we've made while eating and putting away the left overs. There's nothing better than leftover Thai food for lunch.

There's still a tug in the corner of my heart, knowing that Jack isn't here. The look on his face when he left me earlier today bothered me too, as if he knew something bad was happening. I would hope Jack had enough trust in me to tell if something was wrong.

I was there through Pitch Black's assault on the Guardians, though young. I know the dangers that were faced through that time, but the Guardians had triumphed over the darkness, leaving Pitch in a dark hole to live out his miserable life with his nightmares.

….

Later, as mother is dead asleep and snoring in her bedroom, I lay awake, waiting on Jack's return. It's stupid, I know. But part of me believes he'll be back sooner than he said.

The clock on my bedside table says its 1:34 am. This counts as early morning. In my mind, if Jack left so urgently before, then he should be just as pressed to come back.

I touch my shoulder gingerly. Burning has turned into a dull pain. It's more tolerable this way at least, but it is stiff. I haven't looked at it since Jack pointed it out earlier today.

My thoughts immediately go back to when Jack and I were laying on my bed, Jack touching me. My breath escapes me when I imagine us naked on my bed together. Jack kissing me everywhere possible while I hold him close and moan at his attention to my body.

I can't help it. My hand's slide over my breasts, kneading slowly and pinching at my already hard nipples. I close my eyes and let the feelings course through me, thinking only of Jack. This isn't the first time I have let my hands wander with the image of Jack in my head, and it most likely won't be the last.

I keep one hand on my chest as my other hand wanders down my stomach, pushing my pajama pants off, to my needy and wanting clit. I rub it gently at first, feeling the first tingles of pleasure run through my pelvis, down my legs and up my stomach. It makes the air release from my lungs. My head falls back, digging into my pillow as I press harder.

Reaching my fingers down, I can feel the slick wetness of my virgin sex. The need to fill the void of sex has not enticed me with any other person but Jack, so I am only left to my imagination and the information that my extremely sexual friends have divulged on me.

I can't hold back anymore. The hand that was fondling my nipple comes down and quickly thrusts into my wanting hole. I cannot deny the moan that leaves my mouth, not fearing at all that my mother will hear me. Both of my hands work me quickly, my fingers finding all of my most sensitive spots.

I'm in a dream- like state when I feel a mouth touching mine. My imagination must be fooling me into a real persons touch. I don't truly believe that the hands pushing my blanket away and running down my stomach are real. That the lips caressing mine and running down my jaw to my neck are really there.

And yet, the icy cold fingertips make my skin rise in pleasurable goose bumps, the cool mouth wandering my chest makes me moan. I'm so lost in my own lust that nothing is real to me. Even the light touches on my nipples that make them harder than I ever felt possible are unreal.

Until I open my eyes.

Winter blue orbs look into mine, lust taking over them of which the likes I've never seen before. I don't want them to close, I want to look into them forever and see the passion that they hold for me.

I don't blink as cold hands remove mine from pleasuring myself. I don't blink when they're replaced by the frosty touch, invading my insides. All I can do is moan under the touch. My lips reach up to kiss the pale neck above me and I can feel and exhale through the throat.

Jack.

This is Jack. Touching me.

"Jack," I start, but his lips hush mine, running his tongue over my bottom lip and pushing his fingers harder into me until I cry out.

"Sophie," his beautiful whisper cuts me off, "I want to feel every part of you," I buck my hips at his wriggling fingers, "I want you to feel every part of me."

I can't say anything, just soft cries and sounds of need leaving me. I try to touch Jack, still fully clothed, but my hands are clumsy. I've lost myself in him. All I can do is arch my back and lean into his ministrations.

Jack grabs my wrists and places them above my head gently but firmly, my shoulder protesting but I am in no state to listen to it. "I want to be the one touching you," he says breathily.

"Ahhh," the soft sound breaks away from me at Jack's words before I can stop them, "Please, I want to feel you in me."

I can feel the air of his silent chuckle on my neck as he delves further into me, kissing my neck and collar bone as he goes on. I'm rocking into his hand, hoping to get his fingers deeper into me. There's something in me that's stirring and I need Jack to get to it.

Suddenly his hand is gone and I can't help but whimper at the loss. The coolness of his hands felt so good in me.

"Tell me if I hurt you," Jack says into my ear, nipping it. I think I nod my head but I can't be sure.

His erection is teasing at the slit of my arousal. I just want him in me so badly I can't stand it. I raise my hips in a failure of an attempt to force Jack's appendage into me. He pulls back slightly, and at my pout he kisses me, as if to say that he's taking his time.

He moves slow, too slow.

"Sophie," Jack's husky voice reaches out to me. I can only manage half of a frustrated moan before Jack penetrates me. Again, slowly, but the first feeling like this that I have ever felt still makes me gasp loudly.

Jack kisses me, with the sudden urgent need that I've been waiting for, while he continues to slide in and out of me. It's cold, like the rest of him, and my skin rises almost painfully but deliciously. My eyes are wide with surprise at how…how stunning, how unbelievable Jack feels.

My body moves before my brain realizes what I'm doing. Jack looks equally surprised when I roll us over so that I am on top of him. His girth slides in deeper into me and the moan that forces its way out of me is loud and then most sensual noise I've ever made.

Jack sits up and I hold onto him, to his shoulders, his face, as we kiss and move our bodies together. Every time he thrusts up into me he hits a spot so pleasurable that I never knew existed in my own body.

"Oh God…Jack," I harshly whisper.

A burning knot has formed inside me, and suddenly I'm moving faster. I tighten my inner walls around Jacks erection and I hear him gasp, making me shudder at the sound.

The burning in me is overwhelming. It keeps building and building as our hips clash together harder and harder. I'm practically holding onto Jack as if I'm about to slip off the edge of the world. My body is jerking around wildly and I can even begin to comprehend the sensation that is flowing through me.

If I hadn't have thrown my hand over my mouth, I'm sure everyone in my neighbourhood would hear me orgasm violently.

Jacks moans are in my ear as he shudders inside me, holding me close. My body is still moving, shakily, like I'm some crazed drug addict coming down from their high.

"That was…" Jack starts but doesn't finish.

When I find my vocabulary again I say, "Not even flying can compare to this."

…..

Thanks for reading!


End file.
